A Night Out
by Desbelleschoses
Summary: Riza looked at Jean as though he had grown a second head. Now understanding that she didn't catch his meaning, Jean elaborated. "Mustang's out on a date tonight with my ex-girlfriend. Which is why we," Riza found the emphasis unnecessary, "are going to a bar."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Just because I want a Team Mustang sitcom so badly... Or even just a montage of them set to the Friends theme song.**

 **Look for the second part sometime later this week.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own, in this or any subsequent chapters, the intellectual property of Fullmetal Alchemist. Only the plot of this story is mine.**

Riza Hawkeye sighed ever so slightly as she placed her key in the lock, opening the door to her apartment. Roy had another 'date' with one of Christmas' girls that night; despite the fact that it was the weekend, this meant that she wouldn't see him until the next afternoon. It was something she routinely expected on nights like these, which were far more in number than she cared to count. She began to repeat to herself like a mantra: he always comes back, he always comes back. Her jacket found its place across the back of her couch, uncharacteristically tossed with almost no care where it landed. Her hair clip snapped in her hands and was placed on her bedside table, like always. Tonight was going to be a take-out dinner and sweatpants night, spent with one of her favorite books. Before she could begin to change, three sharp raps sounded on her front door.

Hayate was barking to alert his owner to the visitor, spinning around before jumping at the door. He continued the same cycle until Riza reached the door and nudged him away to look out her peephole. On the other side, all she could see was another eye. This one was blue, but it was looking at her with the same curiosity as she was looking at it. She stepped back, turning the lock on the door and opening it. Hayate was too quick for her, and he ran out into the hallway, circling their visitor with a wagging tail. "What are you doing here, Jean?" Riza asked out of surprise rather than incredulity.

Jean had already rid himself of his military uniform, preferring the comfort of a black tee-shirt and jeans to the stuffy woolen monstrosity. He knelt down to scratch Hayate's head, shifting his unlit cigarette to the side of his mouth so he could grin. His gaze turned to Riza as he straightened up. He stuck his hands in his pockets and switched his cigarette to the other side of his mouth before speaking. "Get changed."

"What?"

"Get changed."

Riza looked at Jean as though he had grown a second head. Now understanding that she didn't catch his meaning, Jean elaborated. "Mustang's out on a date tonight with my ex-girlfriend. Which is why _we,_ " Riza found the emphasis unnecessary, "are going to a bar."

"That's not really what I had in mind for tonight, Jean. It's nice of you to offer, but -"

"No buts. We both need something else to do tonight besides sitting around and moping." Seeing that Riza was about to argue, he quickly added "So help me God, Riza, if you don't go get changed I will call Rebecca from your home phone and leave it off the hanger so that she can be the one to have this argument with you."

Riza's lips curled into a frown. He was serious, that much was clear from his expression. She took a moment to weigh her options. Staying in was what she really wanted to do, but if Jean called Rebecca, she would hear about how she needed to 'get out and have fun without waiting around for flame-boy to call" for at least the next three months, if not longer. Jean began to smile as she took longer and longer to find her reply. He was a gambling man, and that meant he knew when he was winning.

"Fine," Riza sighed, knowing that she was beaten. "Just… come inside. Find yourself some place to sit." Her aggravation was clear as she stalked back into her apartment, not bothering to wait for Jean. He shut the front door at the same time as she closed the one to her bedroom. Jean looked around the apartment for the first time. She wasn't exaggerating when she told him to find a place. The only seating area in the apartment was the couch, on which were a few cardboard boxes and Riza's discarded military jacket. To anyone who didn't know her, it would appear that she had just moved in. Jean took it upon himself to move the boxes to the floor before sitting down, shifting his weight on the sofa. It was a shame that she used it for storage; it was one of the comfiest couches he had ever been on.

On the table near him were several picture frames, some of which were empty, others filled with pictures that had yellowed with time. Very few of them seemed to have been taken recently, the clearest being a picture of the lieutenant with her grandfather at her latest promotion. Jean set that frame back on the table before searching for the ones which were a little less yellow than the rest. One in particular caught his eye due to its familiar surroundings. He surveyed it closely before deciding that it was taken in Madame Christmas' bar. A young man, undoubtedly Roy, sat on the bar with his feet on a barstool. If his gesture was any indication, he was telling some sort of story when this picture was taken. Facing him was a young woman with short blonde hair, looking up at him from her seat on a barstool. Although her profile wasn't completely in the camera's view, it had managed to capture a raised eyebrow and a look of pure skepticism.

"He was telling me how he saved a car from veering off the road that day. He claimed that it had slipped on a patch of black ice and sent an entire family careening off the street, and that he managed to stop it just in time with his alchemy by melting the ice, allowing the wheels to gain traction." Riza explained after a glance over his shoulder. "Of course, we found out later that it was a drunk man who fell asleep at the wheel, and Roy stopped it with what the authorities described as 'a very large bump in the road that could have caused serious damage to other drivers and their vehicles.'"

"What clued you in?" Jean asked, pointing to her face in the picture.

"He has tells."

Jean's head spun around fast enough to give him whiplash. "What?! No way. We've been playing him in poker for years and he keeps cleaning us out. That man doesn't have a single tell. Ya gotta admire it, in a way, once you get over the urge to punch him when he's gloating."

"I guarantee you he does." Riza countered as she sat down on the other side of the couch to fasten her sandals. Jean was surprised to see that she had changed into an attractive blouse and skirt. Catching his gaze, Riza added "I _do_ have civilian clothes to wear when I'm home. Do you think I just walk around in uniform?"

Jean was surprised to find that his answer was yes. Brushing it aside, he met Riza's gaze with one that was very serious. "You have to tell me." Riza quirked an eyebrow. "His tell. You have to let me know what it is."

"No, I don't." Riza countered as she stood up, retrieving her purse from by the front door. Jean frowned at her response before getting up to follow her. As much as he wanted an answer, his thoughts drifted a bit. He couldn't remember the last time the two of them had had a friendly back-and-forth like this. It wasn't often that she engaged him in such a way; which was probably due, in no small part, to his ever-present hand in the office antics that seemed to always have them running behind schedule.

Jean cracked a smile as he turned the lock and shut the door behind them. "Yes, you do."

* * *

"Come on, tell me!" Jean implored as he noisily clunked his beer down on the bar. "It's practically a law that subordinates have to help each other find ways to mess with their superiors."

"No, that's only in our office. The rest of Central Command sees us as a madhouse." Riza took a long sip from her glass of merlot. "They aren't wrong…" she added as an afterthought.

"Fine. Let's make a bet."

"You know I don't gamble."

"No, listen to me. Drinking contest. Shots. First one down loses. If I win, you have to let me know what Roy's tell is. If you win…" Jean paused to think for a moment before grinning widely, "I'll do all of my paperwork on time for the next month."

"That's a part of your job description, Jean. You're supposed to do that already."

" _But_ " Jean drew out the word, "we both know I don't. I mean, if that won't help the chaos in our office, what will?"

Riza took a moment to ponder his bet. "I'll take that bet. But I want to make sure that you aren't underestimating me. My size has nothing to do with my tolerance."

Jean scoffed as he waved the bartender over. "We'll see about that."

* * *

As their third shot glasses hit the bar, Jean began to wonder what the bartender was pouring them and how expensive this tab was going to be. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, which was unusual for him. Riza, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine.

" _T'es vraiment une petite nature !_ " Riza said, laughing as she did so.

"Are you speaking in tongues?" Jean asked, looking at her as though she were possessed. "Do I need to call a priest?"

"Aren't you Cretan?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I speak demon."

"It's Cretan, _toi crétin_."

They looked at each other for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. It was the first, genuine, side-splitting laugh that Riza had in a very long time. Havoc waved the bartender over to pour them another shot, tears streaming down his face.

* * *

Shot number five hit Riza like a train. She had been holding her own relatively well, and Jean had begun to think he would lose this bet. Luckily, he wasn't impaired enough that his reflexes were completely shot. Riza's foot slipped off the rim of her barstool, and her entire body began to take a nosedive. Jean, by some miracle, was able to not only to jump to his feet but also to maintain his balance long enough to catch Riza by the shoulders and steady her. "Easy there," he murmured as he set her back up, his hands hovering by her shoulders in case he needed to catch her again.

Jean lit a cigarette as he sat back down, watching Riza for any signs of another collapse. "I guess this means I won," he slurred around his cigarette. He may not have fallen off his barstool, but a part of him wondered if that wasn't because his feet could actually reach the floor.

Riza shook her head as hard as her current state permitted. "Like hell you did. I'm not done yet! I'll get you to… what did you say you would do?"

"Eh, like it matters." Jean had already forgotten what he had made up. He waved the bartender over, but instead of pouring them another shot, he cleared the bar of their glasses.

"You're both cut off."

"Wait, but one of us has to win! Starving people are at stake here!" Jean shouted, a little louder than necessary.

"You're just going to have to figure out another way, then." The bartender turned his back on the two of them as he left to serve the other patrons.

As Riza and Jean climbed down from their stools, a thought caused a wide grin to cross Havoc's face.

"Race ya."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I went through several possible endings to this story, and I think this one works out the best. I wanted to keep it lighthearted and fun. I hope you enjoy it!**

Not a sound was heard as Roy turned his key, letting himself into Riza's apartment the next morning. By this time, she would normally have already made a cup of tea for herself and started a cup of coffee for him. He looked around the apartment, stunned by the disarray. There was a pillow and blanket by the couch, a pair of jeans and a black tee shirt thrown not far away. Roy arched an eyebrow in confusion and headed for Riza's open bedroom door. Normally, she never slept with her door open.

Roy could see a tuft of blonde hair sticking out above the covers. Smirking to himself, he walked across the room and pulled the comforter down. Riza let out a loud groan and reached for the blanket, which was just out of her reach. Unable to grab it, she cracked open an eye. "Roy, give it back," she grumbled. Snatching it back from him, she pulled the comforter back over her head.

"Have a little too much fun last night?" Roy asked as he closed the curtains over her window. "What happened to Xingese and a book?"

"Jean." Riza's voice was hardly audible from her current position.

Roy frowned in confusion. "What about Jean?"

"He's going to hell," Riza condemned as she lifted herself ever so slightly. As she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand, Roy noticed that she had skinned her elbow. Realizing where he was looking, Riza paused in her drinking to tell him "It's a long story. One I can tell you once I don't feel like I'm dying."

From Riza's bathroom came the sound of a flushing toilet, followed by a thud. Roy cracked the door to investigate only to find a half-naked Jean Havoc sprawled out on the cold tile. Like Riza, his elbows were skinned. His hair was disheveled and filled with – were those leaves? Havoc's eyes briefly opened, taking in his surroundings as well as his commanding officer. Jean's heart began to pound with adrenaline, and it took his brain a moment to catch up. His eyes flew open and he made a mad scramble backward, his shoulders bumping into the edge of the tub. "I didn't touch her!" he shouted, the fear in his eyes quickly changing to a clouded haze as he hurriedly leaned over the toilet. "If you're gonna torch me, do it quick and put me out of my misery," he begged.

Roy slowly shut the door to the bathroom, watching Havoc's form disappear as the knob clicked into place. He stood with his hand on the doorknob for a long moment. "Riza…" he began, as if he didn't want to know the answer to the question rattling in his mind. He turned around to confront her only to find that she had made her way out of her bedroom. He found her sitting at her kitchen table, her head bent over a cup of coffee. She mumbled something that Roy couldn't quite him, prompting him to ask "What?"

"Never, and I mean never, let Jean Havoc talk me into doing anything ever again."

Roy chuckled softly and placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'll do my best. Why is he here?"

"We got way too drunk. Apparently we thought we should race back here to see who would win some sort of contest. You can imagine how that went." She rubbed her injured elbow absentmindedly. "I opened the door, and I remember Jean complaining something about not being able to win because he didn't have a key to get inside, and he passed out on my couch. I threw a blanket and pillow at him… I remember being mad about something or other that he had said. But that's it. The first thing I clearly remember is my rather rude awakening."

"Sorry about that, I -"

"No, not you. I mean Jean storming into my room, demanding to know where my toilet was, then taking up residence on my bathroom floor."

"I should probably go get him, shouldn't I?" Roy asked, beginning to move away.

Riza caught him by the wrist, her reflexes surprisingly unimpaired. "Don't. If you try to wake him up, he snores in the most ungodly manner. I don't know if he is faking it or not, but nothing can make him stop. I have tried." Her fingers loosened from around Roy's wrist as if in defeat.

"Well, what am I supposed to do? We were going to have today all to ourselves…" Roy trailed off with a smirk. He blinked once before his smirk grew more evil than sensual. "I've got it."

* * *

It was almost nightfall when Riza's phone rang shrilly through the apartment. Roy swallowed his mouthful of Xingese noodles before answering the phone. "Hawkeye residence."

"What the hell are you doing answering Riza's phone?" A voice demanded sharply from the other side of the line. "I swear to God, if you -"

"Relax, shrew. We're eating Xingese. That isn't a crime, is it?"

Rebecca huffed into the phone. "Where is she?"

"She just ran to the bathroom. Can I help you with something?" Roy asked, growing slightly impatient.

"I don't know. Can you tell me why Jean Havoc is passed out against my front door, half-naked with his clothes in his lap? If you had something to do with this, Mustang, I -"

"Don't know anything about it, sorry." Roy hung up the phone before Rebecca could say anything more, and he left the phone off the hook so that she couldn't call back?

"Who was that?" Riza asked as she sat back down on the couch.

"Your grandfather," Roy lied. "He asked me again."

"If you wanted to marry me, right?" Riza scoffed. "I know he's from a different age, but nowadays he should know better than to offer my hand for me." She paused before looking at Roy. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him that he asks me that question enough at work, and that berating me over the phone in addition to that is just cruel."

Riza smirked slightly before her mind was taken away by a different thought. "We still haven't heard from Jean. You're sure you got him home okay?"

"Of course. He's well taken care of." Roy's poorly hidden glint in his eye tipped Riza off.

"I know you're not telling the truth, but I know that if this comes back to bite you in the ass, it's going to be all you."

Roy frowned dejectedly. "Gee, thanks."

"I promised that I would protect you from outside forces and from straying for your path. I never said anything about your schemes."

"Ooh, low blow."

Ignoring the comment, Riza settled back under the blanket, picking up her book with one hand and using her chopsticks to eat with the other. "I'm sure I'll get to hear all about it on Monday."

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! I always enjoy writing humor pieces about Team Mustang, and I hope you enjoy reading them just as much!**


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